It is a freedom few have, but we always recognise eachother, a certain look across a crowded bar, a crooked smile shared when others stare at us.So if you shy away from things wild, taboo or just plain illegal, you should'nt read my story. But if you want to know how I became who I am, how it is to live in my world for a while.. Then by all means, read on, step inside!It guess it started early, with my mom not giving a shit what I was up to, giving me the freedom to run wild at an early age. I never knew my dad, my mom having me when she was just 16 and my dad 16. I guess he was'nt ready for a child, I can't say I blame him. I went to my first pub when I was 16, wearing too much makeup an too little clothes, making the bouncer see past my age and more on my boobs. When I turned 18, I was an experienced maneater, partyanimal and user. Nothing heavy, just some marijuana now and then, some snorted Ritalin and vodkashots to make the party last longer, be more fun. To get me started. I. Mrs. Smither stared at the old, ugly figure as her finger twirled inside her ear trying to dislodge something bothering her."Too bad that boy won't be around," Mrs. Smither said, her eyes going vacant as she reminisced. "He had a nice hard cock. Not like the wimpy one I'm used to." Well, I'll miss that blonde cheerleader's tight wet pussy. I'm stuck with an old hag's dried up one. And, man, her ass was even tighter."They continued laughing, jibing each other with merriment. And then they stopped laughing when they heard a loud crash. Running to the parlor, they found pieces of a shattered vase on the floor. Looking at each other in confusion, Mrs. Smither shrugged and was about to get a broom and dustpan when they heard a door slam on the second floor. Mr. Smither retrieved his shotgun, cracked it open and inserted two new shells, then snapped it shut. Stuffing extra cartridges into his pocket, the two hobbled up the stairs. Mr. Smither kept a finger on the trigger as the muzzle of.
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